Rainbow Socks and Handcuffs
by Snarkymuch
Summary: When out on a coffee run, Darcy gets kidnapped. Clint had tried to prepare her for something like this. She just wished she'd paid more attention.


"Those shoes have sentimental value! I paid thirty bucks at a thrift store for those!" Darcy shouted at the closing door. Twisting her cuffed hands, her face fell. "They were vintage," she whined into the darkness.

All her other possessions were gone—her purse that had her phone and taser, even her glasses.

Slumping back against the wall, she stretched her legs out in front of her. Her body felt sore and stiff, and her knee felt oddly achy. It wasn't pleasant, to say the least.

Flexing her feet, she could feel her big toe peeking out from a hole in her too thin socks. They were her rainbow-striped ones, and she should probably have retired them months ago, but she liked them. She'd bought them in New Mexico after the whole 'fire breathing robot of death' thing. They reminded her of the rainbow bridge and of mew mew, though she was regretting her attachment to them now as her big toe was getting cold.

Taking a breath, the musty smell of the room made her nose twitch and she sniffled. It was totally allergies and not her emotions getting the best of her. Everything was fine. It was totally and absolutely fine. Getting kidnapped wasn't good, but she was reasonably sure that someone would find her, though Jane had been engrossed in a project, and so had Bruce and Tony, which meant they might not notice she was missing until someone passed out from low blood sugar or noticed the flow of coffee had stopped.

Realizing she should probably take stock of her situation, she looked around the room. The space was hard to make out in the darkness—especially without her glasses—but from what she could tell, it was everything a cliché holding cell strived to be. There was a really sketchy mattress in the corner that she had no desire to touch—cooties might not be real but bedbugs were—there were no windows, and of course the large, overly dramatic metal door keeping her in. Squinting, she noticed one more thing.

A bucket and a lonely roll of toilet paper beside it.

Oh, hell to the no, folks. She was not using a bucket—there was no reality where that was happening, so her rescue better hurry up because she had a gallon of coffee already before the big snatch and grab, and things were going to need to happen.

No matter how much Stark paid her, or how appreciative her Janey Bear was, she drew the line at this. She was not peeing—or anything else—in a bucket because some idiots thought she'd make good bait, or even crazier, thought she'd know something about the science she was always surrounded by.

There was a light thrumming in her head, and it was making focusing difficult. Pushing herself to her feet, she balanced against the wall to steady herself. The concrete beneath her was gritty and cold. She kept her exposed big toe curled so it didn't touch the dirty floor. Lifting her cuffed hands, she brushed the stray hair from her face. She really needed to find a way out of there.

Getting kidnapped was the last thing she expected when she left her apartment that morning. If she'd known her day was gonna turn out like this, she would have worn warmer socks—or better yet—accepted Stark's offer of an implantable tracker. At the time, she had scoffed and informed him she was not a cat that was planning on getting lost. She had no doubt there would be some I told you so's from the genius once this debacle was over.

The ache in her head was distracting as she tried to think. There were things she knew she should be doing. Clint had outlined them in great detail in the guide he'd made just for an occasion like this.

The manual was titled _So You've Been Kidnapped. _The first page was simply the words _Don't Panic. _At least so far, she was doing pretty good. Panic hadn't happened. No, that would probably come later when the full weight of the situation began to sink in. For now, she was still blissfully swimming in that river in Egypt.

Clint had said she and Jane were easy targets and needed to know how to survive until help arrived. She'd humored him and skimmed the well put together binder. She had to give him credit—it even had pictures, albeit hand-drawn ones, but she gave credit where credit was due. The lessons on escaping duct tape and zip ties were useless, but maybe some of the other stuff would help.

He'd explained that staying calm was important. Don't cry. Don't breakdown. He stressed the importance of staying composed.

_Composed_.

She drew a breath, holding it for a second before blowing it out. Yeah. She totally had this.

What else … She wracked her brain, trying to remember. Slowly, a memory surfaced.

_"Darcy, pay attention," Clint said, pushing the binder closer to her. "You might need this one day." _

_She sighed, bottom lip sticking out as she made herself read over the page again. "I get it. Pay attention. Play nice. One chance for escape—don't take it unless I'm sure, and when you come to get me, stay down." She shrugged. "Easy Peasy." _

_"I wish you would take this more seriously." _

She huffed a laugh at the memory. _You and me both, buddy. You and me both. _

There was a twinge of pain in her knee as she shifted her weight between her feet. Squinting, she bent to inspect it for injuries. She frowned when she saw the small tear in her leggings, along with what was either dirt or blood—maybe both. It didn't seem too bad, though. She just didn't remember how it happened.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that there was a distinct deficit regarding her memories of the day.

Her leg was a little sore, and there was really no point in standing, so sighing, she tried to ease herself to the floor using the wall, her cuffs digging into her wrists with the effort.

Scrunching her face, she pulled her good leg up and rested her cuffed hands on her knee. There was still a big gap in her memory. She tried to remember what happened before waking up there, but it was blurry—kinda like the morning after too many tequila shots with Jane.

Thinking back, she could remember being in the lab with Jane and Tony. He was helping her with one of her machines. Their bickering had become shouting, and Darcy remembered being pretty sure they were both just hangry, so she'd suggested food.

Jane didn't have a preference, but Tony had requested 'the doughy things with the cinnamon stuff and glaze,' which Darcy had translated to cinnamon rolls.

Darcy knew she'd managed to get them because she remembered licking some glaze from her fingers as she balanced the box in her other hand while she strolling down the sidewalk.

The last clear memory she had before waking up in the cell was turning the corner to the tower and feeling a sharp pain in her neck. She remembered the ground rushing up to meet her and the box of goodies spilling over the concrete.

She was a little heartbroken that the cinnamon rolls went to waste, but then again, at least she got to eat one, even if she didn't quite remember it.

A clank, followed by a loud creaking groan, made her look in the direction of the door. Light slanted through the darkness as it slowly swung open. She raised her hands to shield her eyes, blinking against the light. A shape moved across her vision, and she realized a figure was walking into the room, heading straight for her.

She was pretty sure her heart skipped a beat or two before settling back down.

_Cooperate and sympathize. Try to figure out what they want,_ Clint's advice echoed in her mind.

She could do this. Lowering her hands, she forced her lips into a tenuous smile. "Hey, dude. Nice gun."

The guy didn't respond, just reached down and grabbed the metal links between the cuffs and yanked her to her feet. She stumbled, and like the graceful ballerina she was, bounced her chest off his armored front before getting her balance and righting herself.

She let out an indignant huff and rolled her shoulders. They were getting stiff from having her wrists shackled.

A calloused hand grabbed her by the back of the neck and squeezed, pushing her forward. "Walk."

She tried to twist her head, but he tightened his grip. It sent a shot of pain down her neck not unlike she imagined the Vulcan neck pinch would.

"Dude, look at me. One foot is going in front of the other. Just tell me where to go. No need for the grip of death."

He didn't respond, just steered her out of the room and into the bright hall. It was actually a rather nice place for an evil lair. The walls were a pleasant pastel yellow, which really made her captor's all-black attire pop.

"Who's your decorator? This is great."

His fingertips dug into her neck, making her stumble and wince.

They came up to an open door with another thug in black standing beside it. He let go of her neck and gave her a shove between the shoulder blades, making her nearly topple into the room.

Straightening her shoulders, she took in her new digs. It wasn't as sketchy as the holding cell, but it wasn't a hotel either. The room was sparse, a metal chair bolted to the floor, and a small, metal table was between the chair and what looked like a camera. Something that looked like a taser was on the table.

She tensed at the realization that shit was probably about to get real and not in a fun way.

The baddie with the Vulcan neck pinch shoved her through the threshold into the room. Her socked feet slipping and making her knee pull painfully.

"Dude, I thought we were friends!"

The guard from the doorway joined his friend, one undid the cuffs, and then they each took an arm. They dragged her to the chair, pushing down into it. She had to fight her instincts to fight, even though she had the perfect angle to kick one of them in the balls. It might be satisfying, but it would only piss them off. She needed to play it cool.

Leather straps bound her arms to the chair, nearly cutting off circulation. She tested them lightly when they weren't looking but found no wiggle room. They were secure.

The two thugs slipped out of the room only for a tall, chubby man with suspenders to arrive. He was wearing round glasses that sat low on his nose and looked Darcy over like she was prize livestock up for auction. His gaze paused on her chest.

Clint's rules be damned, no one looked at her like that. She cocked her head to the side and gave her best scowl. She snapped her chin up. "Eyes up here, asshole."

He smirked at that. Taking off his glasses and cleaning the lenses on a handkerchief, he pulled from his pocket. "You've got spunk. I like that in a subject."

"Look, pal, I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing. Besides, I'm a nobody, which means you suck at this whole kidnapping gig."

He put his glasses back on and smiled, walking over to the camera and pressing a few buttons. A little red light came on, and he walked over to the table, picking up the taser.

For all the tasing she'd done, she'd never been tased herself, and it wasn't something she was looking forward to. She sincerely hoped to avoid it, but given her situation, it didn't seem likely. She was just glad it wasn't a souped-up Stark Taser like she usually carried. That thing could take out Steve.

A thought hit her. They had her things—her taser included.

If they had her things somewhere in the building, maybe all wasn't lost. Knowing Tony like she did, she would bet her iPod that there was a tracker built into the taser he gave her—which meant there was hope they'd find her. She just needed to get her head on straight and hang on until the cavalry arrived.

Depending on how long it had already been, they could be there any minute. The thought made Darcy's face split in a grin, and she giggled, making the creepy dude's brow furrow.

"Care to enlighten me about what you find so funny about your situation?"

Her laugh trailed off, and she smirked. "Just thinking how screwed you're gonna be soon."

"You clearly have no idea who we are." The man tilted his head.

She snorted. "I know enough. You're an idiot."

"Maybe you need to be taught some respect." He held up the taser, and Darcy sat up straighter.

A trickle of regret and fear spread through Darcy's veins. The reality of the situation hit her hard as she realized that pain was very likely in her future, and her mouthing off had only made things worse. She really should have listened to Clint.

She squirmed in the chair, rubbing her palms against the metal arms of the chair and curling her toes.

_Breathe_, she coached herself. _Don't fall apart now._

He must have seen her sudden change in attitude because his lips twitched into a perverse smile. He sat on the edge of the table in front of her, resting his hands and the taser on his leg. "Now, you're probably wondering why we've taken you."

Pursing her lips, she gave a short nod.

"We need information, information that we believe Doctor Foster will exchange for your safe return."

Darcy's eyebrows lifted. "Not to rain on your parade or anything but you gotta know that's not gonna happen."

He tipped his head side to side, followed by a shrug. "You see that camera? We've been recording for a reason. This is being fed through an untraceable connection directly to your boss."

She had to do everything in her power not to laugh. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that JARVIS would be able to trace it back in a heartbeat. These guys were total amateurs.

She glanced at the camera and then back to the guy watching her. Shaking her head, she sighed and sagged back in her chair. "I guess this could be worse. You could actually be competent."

The unnamed baddie slid off the table and stepped toward her, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back. "I think that'll be enough."

She twisted in her chair, stretching upward to ease some of the pain. "Ow, ow, ow!"

His eyes narrowed, and he locked his gaze with hers. "You'll show me some respect or pay the price." He released his grip and let her head drop back.

Darcy scrunched her face, licking her lips. "That was rude."

"Are you always this insufferable?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I do what I can."

Out of nowhere, the lights flickered and then blinked off. A second later, red emergency lights turned on, casting the room in an eerie glow.

Her captor went to the door, peering out. Darcy could see shadows moving past the doorway and the sound of boots thudding through the hall. If she had the skills or talent, now would be a great time to make an escape, but as it was, her skill set was more attuned to pulling stuck Pop-Tarts from the toaster.

A distant explosion shook the building, fine dust drifting down from the ceiling. Darcy really hoped this was her rescue and not something worse—though what that could be worse, she didn't know.

An inhuman roar echoed through the halls, and the Darcy smiled. She would know that sound anywhere. It was the Hulk, and he sounded pissed. As she relaxed, knowing her rescue had arrived, the jerk with the taser began to shake. He closed the door quickly, leaning his back against it and looking to Darcy with wide eyes.

Darcy snorted, grinning ear to ear. "Like I was saying, you suck at this, dude. Next time, maybe don't kidnap the person who does yoga with the Hulk's alter ego."

Another roar rattled the halls, and her captor looked around the room like he was hoping to find a place to hide.

"Not so tough now, huh?"

He tried to scowl at her, but it was betrayed by the fear etched on his face. "Shut up!"

Darcy kicked her feet out, crossing her ankles and wiggling her toes. She wasn't a violent person, but seeing this guy get smashed by the Hulk might be fun.

"If I were you, I'd probably run. I mean, they're here for me, so like, hanging out with me? Probably not too smart."

His gaze flicked around the room, and Darcy wondered what the guy was planning to do. Before he had a chance to decide, though, the ceiling vent swung open, and Clint dropped down behind him. With one swift movement, Clint knocked the guy out with a whack of his gun to the head.

"Clint!" she squealed. "Where the hell have you guys been?"

Clint kicked the taser out of the guy's reach and bent down, zip-tying his hands together. He raised a brow at Darcy as he relayed his status to the team, telling them he had Darcy and would be waiting on the all-clear.

He stepped over her captor, moving to Darcy's side. She could see his gaze sweeping over her for injuries.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "Not really, my knee hurts a little, and I'm pretty sure I got whammied with some super drugs, but I'm okay."

He gave a tight nod and began to undo her restraints. "I'll take a look at your knee, and we'll have medical check you over, too." He paused, not meeting her gaze. "You scared the shit out of me."

"At least I can scratch kidnapping off my bucket list."

He sighed. "Not funny, Darce. They could have hurt you. _They did hurt you._ I saw some of that video. What were you thinking?"

She rubbed her now free wrists as Clint knelt and checked her knee. She winced when he pressed on a tender spot. "I don't know. Verbal diarrhea. It's a real problem."

He looked up at her, his face serious. "You're lucky these guys weren't serious threats. I trained you for a reason. Antagonizing them could have gotten you tortured or killed."

"Sorry," she said, tears pricking at her eyes. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't stop the ache from building in her chest and the lump from forming in her throat.

Clint reached up and cupped her cheek. "Hey, don't cry. You did good, Darcy. I'm sorry, okay? I was just so damned worried."

She nodded, leaning into his touch.

"I'm serious. When I heard you were taken—I've never been that scared."

She sniffled and blinked away some tears. Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she studied Clint, going over his words in her head. "Maybe it's all the stress, but it sounds like you are saying you like me."

Clint wiped away a tear with his thumb. "I thought by now you would have noticed, I haven't been subtle, but yeah, Darce, I'm pretty head over heels."

She hiccupped and tried to hold back another wave of tears. "Are you serious?"

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a half-smile. "Completely."

"Maybe this day hasn't been all bad after all."

He stood and helped her to her feet, shifting her weight, so she was leaning on him. "Nice socks."

Darcy blinked for a second, confused, before looking down and seeing her rainbow covered feet.

She sniffled. "They remind me of Thor, but I think I'm gonna have to retire them—memory's kinda tainted now."

Clint helped her to the door. "We got the all-clear, medical is en route."

"I can walk."

"Nope," Clint said. "Your knee is swollen. I don't want you hurting yourself more."

Darcy held onto his shoulder for balance. "So, maybe after everything settles we can grab some dinner?"

He turned his head to look at her and smiled. "Yeah, dinner sounds good."

"Good." She smiled back.

There was the familiar sound of Tony's armor, and she peeked into the hall to see him approaching. His faceplate flipped up when he reached them. "Hey, short stack, if you wanted a day off, all you had to do was ask."

She shook her head. "Good to see you too, Stark."

"Rethinking that tracker yet?" He smirked.

"Too soon. You can say 'I told you so' tomorrow. Today I just want to sleep."

Tony's expression softened. "I'm glad you're okay, kid."

Clint squeezed her shoulder, and she melted into him, breathing in the leathery scent of his suit.

Tony raised a brow. "You and Barton?"

"Shut it, Tony."

Tony laughed, and Darcy held tight to Clint until a stretcher was brought to the room. She objected to needing it, but Clint gave her a heartbreaking look, and she relented.

All in all, kidnapping aside, it had turned out to be a pretty good day.


End file.
